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Ella Barnwell - A Historical Romance of Border Life by Emerson Bennett
page 15 of 282 (05%)
the last few year, I've seen a brother and a son shot by the infernal
red-skins--have lost I don't know how many companions in the same
way--been shot at fifty times myself, and captured several; and yet you
see here I am, hale and hearty, and just as eager, with Betsey's
permission, to talk to the varmints now as I war ten year ago."

"But do you not weary of this fatiguing and dangerous mode of life?"
inquired the other.

"Weary, stranger? Lord bless ye! you're but a young hunter to ax such a
question as that. Weary, friend? Why I war born to it--nursed to it--had
a rifle for a plaything; and the first thing I can remember
particularly, war shooting a painter;[2] and it's become as nateral and
necessary as breathing; and when I get so I can't follow the one, I want
to quit the other. Weary on't, indeed! Why, thar's more real
satisfaction in sarcumventing and scalping one o' there red heathen,
than in all the amusement you could scare up in a thick-peopled,
peaceable settlement in a life time."

"By the way," said the other, "pray tell me how you chanced to be so
opportune in saving my life?"

"Why, you must know, I war just crossing through the wood back here
about a mile, on my way home from the Licks, when I came across the
trail of two Indians, whom I 'spected war arter no good; and as Betsey
war itching for something to do, I kind o' kept on the same way, and
happened round on the other side o' this ridge, just as the red varmints
fired. I saw you fall, but could'nt see them, on account o' the hill;
but as I knowed they'd be for showing themselves soon, I got Betsey into
a comfortable position, and waited as patiently as I could, until the
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